Cure for a Broken Heart?

“It’s so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.” – John Steinbeck

For one week The Cundy is on sale for 99p (99c). It’s a promotion that’s been lined up for a while, but one I don’t have much drive to market at the moment. So don’t worry, no hard sales pitch. If you want to grab a bargain, go for it. If not, no worries.

The Cundy is a story that inspired a lot of rawness of emotion in me. And right now it seems in some way cruelly apt. See, last week I lost my little boy.

I’ve never given birth to kids, but I adopted two furry ones (Marvin and Delilah) who I’ve always classed as my son and daughter. And why wouldn’t I? They’re clever, funny, insanely loving and have the same traits as the best kind of people. They’ve been with me pretty much 24×7 since they were 8 weeks old, respectively, and because I talk to them every day about anything and everything, they have a wide understanding of vocabulary. So much so, my husband and I have to talk using code words often. I mean, you can’t go throwing words like ‘sausages’, ‘dinner’ or ‘hungry’ about without inciting a bouncing-off-the-walls kind of excitement.

Marvin was only 8. Was taken from us much too soon. Me and him, we were autoimmune buddies. He was diagnosed with Addison’s Disease around four months after my Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis. But we got each other through the bad times. We had it covered. Or so we thought.

My husband and I took him to the vets with what we thought to be a stomach bug that was triggering the beginnings of an Addison’s crisis. We’d seen the symptoms many times before. We thought his monthly injection a few days early would make everything ok. Little did we know that his illness and medication had damaged his kidneys.

In the vet’s surgery last week, our world was blown apart. The vet told us that Marvin’s kidneys were shutting down. He was in a very bad way. His kidney levels were so high, they were off the chart. With no option for dialysis or transplant, we were advised to take him home and spend the night saying goodbye. It all happened that quickly.

I think it’s fair to say that I’m traumatised. Reeling with shock, numb with grief and utterly heartbroken.

Why am I telling you all of this?

Sometimes I find it cathartic to write about the bad stuff. I dunno. I’m willing to give anything a go if it’ll ease the pain.

And I wanted you to know that I’m still working on the next book (The Shadow of a Shadow). Every day’s a struggle right now though and I don’t know when it’ll be ready. Delilah takes priority. She’s grieving and sad too, and needs guidance from me in establishing a new routine, whatever that will be. I will get there though, I’ll keep chipping away at the manuscript till it’s done. In the meantime, if I’m quiet for a while, you know why.

Rachael x

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R. H. Dixon is a horror enthusiast who, when not escaping into the fantastical realms of fiction, lives in the northeast of England with her husband and two whippets. She is an active member of the Horror Writers Association.

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2 comments on “Cure for a Broken Heart?
  1. Oh I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. I totally get it, and so do all the other readers out there with four-legged family members. Hang in there.

    Liked by 1 person

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